The Other Half of my Soul addm-1

by Gareth D. Williams

  “I have… been suffering from all of those,” she admitted.

  “I guessed as much, and I’m afraid things are only going to get worse. I can prescribe some medicines to treat some of the symptoms, but I’m going to have to be very careful to make sure that whatever I give you won’t cause problems for either part of your shared biology. I also won’t be able to do anything to get at the root of the problem, unless you have some of the technology that caused this, so I can have a look at it…”

  “It was confiscated by Mr. Welles,” Delenn replied. “It is on Proxima Three at the moment.”

  “Then I’m afraid there isn’t much I can do. My best guess if that you only have a few months before one of your major systems fails completely, and I won’t be able to do much to help.”

  “A few months will be all I need. Thank you, Doctor.”

  Delenn had tried to hide how scared she was by this, but she was failing, both in hiding it from herself and in hiding it from John. He had not mentioned anything about it to her, however. At least not yet.

  “How… much longer until we arrive there?” Delenn asked, trying not to notice how near John was to her. She could look directly into his eyes and notice every item of loss and pain and suffering there… and how much of all that suffering was down to her?

  “A few hours, not much more,” he replied. “I… I…” He fell back, sitting on the back of his heels. “I wish I knew what Bester was up to.”

  “You do not trust him?”

  “I don’t trust anyone, Delenn. No one at all.” Not even me, she thought sadly. And why should he? What have I ever done to make him trust me?

  “What did he tell you? What were your… orders?”

  “That’s the funniest part of all…”

  * * * *

  Bester had not looked happy when Sheridan had gone to see him, as requested. He had smiled however as Sheridan walked in. Sheridan had seen Captain Ben Zayn walk out, and had received a grim, steady expression of patience in return for his careful greeting.

  “Ah, Captain Sheridan.” He did not like the sight of Bester smiling. It reminded him of a shark’s smile – that what Bester found happy was not something anyone else would find something to smile about. “How are you taking to the Parmenion?”

  “Very well,” Sheridan replied. “It’s a… good ship with a very capable crew.”

  “Good. I am glad. It is a pity that you will not have more time to adapt. Captain, the Minbari have launched an offensive on Proxima Three.”

  Sheridan breathed out harshly. Well, he knew it was bound to happen eventually. And it wasn’t as if it could have hit him as much of a surprise, but still…

  “Will we be taking action?” he asked cautiously. He still wasn’t sure exactly where Bester’s loyalties lay in the conflict. He wouldn’t be surprised if he simply sat the matter out and moved in to pick up the pieces.

  “Of course, Captain. This is too important for us to not be involved. I have already given Captain Ben Zayn his orders. He will be taking the Ozymandias to Proxima Three itself. I want you to go to Proxima Seven. That is doubtless where the Minbari will emerge from hyperspace, giving them plenty of time to evaluate the area before striking out for the colony itself.”

  Bester paused, and Sheridan looked at him. “And then?”

  “I am sorry, Captain?”

  “What are my instructions regarding the Minbari? If I’m stuck out in Proxima Seven against an entire Minbari fleet then not even I can do much…”

  “Who said anything about fighting the Minbari? Your mission is to… be there.”

  “But…”

  “You are an intelligent man, Captain. At least I always took you to be one. I am sure your… instincts will guide you in the right direction. You have your instructions, Captain.”

  * * * * * * *

  “It didn’t make any sense. It still doesn’t. One minute he was giving me strict instructions to follow his orders, the next he’s telling me to do what I think best. I sometimes wonder if he knows what he’s doing.”

  “And what will you be doing?” she asked softly. Delenn hated herself for questioning him like this, but she had to do it. “If the Enemy are waiting there for my people, then who will you fight?”

  “I… don’t know. I won’t hurt my people, Delenn. I won’t do that! But… would I hurt them more by letting them be? Letting them… keep walking into the Darkness?”

  Delenn reached out and touched his arm gently. “You will make the right decision.” But her thoughts were on something else. On the Council of Nine… on the covenant with Valen, on the prophecies…

  If she could convince them of the truth of the prophecies then this could be ended without bloodshed. If she could make the Grey Council see what Valen had meant… who Valen was… then there might be hope. The Grey Council would be there. Sinoval would not pass up this opportunity to lead. He always prided himself on leading from the front. Like a true warrior.

  She could see John’s eyes staring directly into her own – like a pathway into the heart of his soul. The other half of my soul, she realised.

  He looked away sharply, possibly having realised the same thing. “I’ve… put all the guards on security patrol along the inside of the outer hull. The Minbari might try to board us. Just because they haven’t before, it doesn’t mean Sinoval won’t start. Or maybe the people from Proxima might try, I don’t know. I won’t be able to spare anyone to guard you. You can go up to the bridge, if you like, but…”

  “No,” she said softly, smiling sadly. “I do not… think I could bear that.”

  “I understand,” he said. “Please, take care. I wouldn’t…”

  She smiled again. “Trust me.” She bit back the anger of betrayal welling up from deep within her. What was the human saying? Minbari never tell anyone the whole truth? “How… competent are these Narns?”

  They’re very good. Their leader – Ko’Dath – assures me that they’re good at what they do.“ Sheridan smiled. ”The humans call them the Narn bat squad.“

  Delenn smiled too. “Be careful,” she whispered.

  “You too.”

  The Parmenion came closer and closer to Proxima and the Second Line.

  * * * * * * *

  “What… price?” Hague asked. “You never…”

  “Sorry?” Ivanova said. “I can’t quite hear you.”

  “What price?! You never said…”

  “Didn’t I? Sorry. Must have slipped my mind. You know how memories are. Tricky things at best.”

  Hague slumped back in his chair. He didn’t… he couldn’t… the Minbari are coming. “What… what is the price?”

  “Just a little thing. More of a… middle man’s commission sort of thing. It’s not very much really.”

  “What price?!” He leapt to his feet, scattering readouts and documents everywhere. “This isn’t a game! They’re… they’re coming, and if your friends don’t help then we’re ALL GOING TO DIE! WHAT PRICE?!”

  “Lyta Alexander. What are you doing with her at the moment?”

  He blinked. “Miss Alexander? What does she…?” He gasped and closed his eyes hard. The whisky was disagreeing with him, and why shouldn’t it? He hadn’t eaten anything in days. “She’s being held in the Detention Block. Mr. Welles will have the details… Why are you interested in her?”

  “She’s the price. I want her.”

  “What? I… I don’t…” The Minbari are coming.

  “What would you do with her? As punishment for what she did?”

  He couldn’t think. This was so… unreal. The Minbari were coming, and in just over twelve hours, this, none of this would survive. He didn’t… he couldn’t…

  “Treason still carries the death penalty,” he muttered, largely to himself. “She’d be given a trial and if she was found guilty, she’d be executed. Some of the… some of the others… they were debating what… to do… with… her. Why do you care, for God’s sake?”

  “That�
��s my business. I want her. I want to kill her. No trial. No fair hearing. I want to kill her myself.”

  He didn’t believe he was hearing this. He couldn’t believe he was hearing this, and yet… the Minbari are coming. THE MINBARI ARE COMING, FOR GOD’S SAKE!

  But still he was hesitating. This was wrong. She deserved a fair trial at least, but it was more than that. William Hague had always held such a high image of himself. He wore the uniform of the Earth Alliance proudly, without regret or fear or shame, because he knew he was worthy of it. He’d fallen a long way since he’d first put on the uniform, but this…

  If he agreed to this, he would be damned, finally, irrevocably damned.

  And yet what was one life – two lives even – compared with all of humanity? Lyta Alexander would die anyway if the Minbari did to Proxima 3 what they had done to Earth. Did one life really matter so much?

  Some must be sacrificed if all are to be saved. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one.

  But this… this was wrong. This was immoral. This was illegal. This was…

  Ivanova shrugged and went to the door. It opened…

  “Wait!” he cried. “Yes! Yes, you can do whatever you like, just make sure they’ll be here.”

  Ivanova smiled. “Thank you, General. I always knew you’d see sense.”

  “I told you. I don’t know which cell she’s in, but you can ask Mr. Welles. I’ll… let… him know of my decision. I… I…”

  “Don’t worry, General. Sooner or later everyone falls to the bottom. You’ll have plenty of company.”

  Ivanova smiled and left.

  * * * * * * *

  There had not been much time for the testing of the new White Star class ships, but even so Tryfan felt comfortable in one. Their speed and power surprised him, especially in relation to their size, but he had little idea of how much damage they could take, or of how effective they would be in full combat. The Vorlon technology they had incorporated seemed to be invincible, and perhaps it would be. It was certainly one of the few occasions on which the Vorlons had actually helped their erstwhile allies since the discovery of the Shadow vessel under the sands of Mars.

  He would have liked a little longer to test them, but Sinoval had said that was impossible. The Enemy was at Proxima. The Starkiller was at Proxima. The Earthers were at Proxima.

  Their destinies lay at Proxima.

  Tryfan had not played a great part in the last war. He had served most of the time as aide to Shakiri, the great warrior who had died in flames in Sheridan’s onslaught over Mars. Tryfan had served a similar rôle to that which his friend Neroon had played serving Branmer, but whereas Neroon and Branmer had risen to high positions within the Rangers – until Branmer’s death and Neroon’s mysterious disappearance – Tryfan had languished in the Rangers for many years, unnoticed and unremarked.

  Until Sinoval had risen to power. Sinoval had known Tryfan well and had trusted him with a position of authority – Shai Alyt, and Captain of a White Star fleet, taking the place vacated by Kalain with his recent ascension to Satai.

  He would not betray the trust Sinoval had placed in him. At Proxima, he would repay the trust with deeds performed a thousandfold.

  Slowly, Tryfan’s White Star Nine – named the Valen – leading the way, the great Minbari fleet emerged from hyperspace into the skies of Proxima.

  The Second Line had been drawn, and the Minbari were there.

  As were the Shadows…

  Chapter 4

  “And we must reunite with the other half of our soul in a war against the Enemy which is to come… Together we will walk into fire and darkness and bring the light…”

  So ran the prophecies of Valen, immortalised over a thousand years ago, at the end of the last Great War. To the Minbari, who did not believe in gods, Valen was the closest thing to a God they had.

  “Minbari not born of Minbari, he came from nowhere during the dying days of the last Great War, he defeated the Shadows, formed the Grey Council, wrote the prophecies…”

  And the prophecies he had written were coming true, but in a way he could surely never have expected. Only Delenn, who had studied his words in such detail that she knew every line and marking, only she knew the true, bitter irony of what was happening.

  The two halves of the soul were coming together, and they were walking into fire and darkness, but they were coming together in war, and they were bringing the fire and darkness with them.

  Over ten years after the Battle of the Line and the subsequent destruction of Earth, Minbari and human were meeting in battle once again, with the Ancient Enemy involved, aiding the humans, who had sold everything they were just to stay alive. The humans could, perhaps, be forgiven for being so easily corrupted by the Shadows. Their question – ‘What do you want?’ – was easily answered when all you wanted was safety and peace, and not to have to look up into the skies every night, dreading the arrival of an alien armada.

  But the Minbari, what excuse did they have? None, save the accidental death of one man. None, save the pride and arrogance of their leader, Sinoval. None, save the determination to crush a people who had already lost everything they had ever had.

  There would only be one victor at the Battle of the Second Line, and that would be the Shadows.

  But… there was always hope…

  Delenn was a Satai of the Grey Council, the chosen of Dukhat. Had it not been for the twist of fate that had thrown her into Sheridan’s path as he escaped his confinement on Minbar it would be she who now stood in the Hall of the Grey Council. For all that she had been gone for almost an entire cycle, she still had respect and power and the ears of the Grey Council. If they would listen to her, then this tragedy might be averted, as she had failed to avert a greater tragedy at Earth.

  She had changed during her captivity among the humans – both physically and spiritually. Her chrysalis transformation might have been interrupted, and its results might be close to killing her, but she was still proof of what Valen had said – humans and Minbari were of the same soul. If she could show this to the Grey Council, then the tragedy might be averted.

  She did not want to betray John. She sensed a destiny for the two of them – a feeling she had never known before, not even with Neroon. He was on the bridge of this new ship – the Parmenion – trying to hold back a Minbari onslaught and a Shadow involvement from destroying his own people. He was here as the tool of a Psi Cop who was playing his own game with billions of lives at stake.

  Only minutes ago, John had told her that he did not trust anyone. How could he? He had been betrayed by the Government he had served for so long. He was forced to obey the orders of someone whose orders made no sense. He had been forced to kill his own wife, who had – possibly – been involved in his betrayal.

  John had lied, but whether he knew he had lied or not, Delenn was not sure. He trusted her, even if he could not admit it, not even to himself. But he did trust her, and she was about to forsake that trust.

  He had left her with access to the communications systems. They had been deactivated, but reactivating them was simple enough. Neroon and Draal had taught her many things, including communications. Human technology was, compared to the Minbari’s, primitive. She had reactivated them easily, and it would be simple to send out a message that the bridge would not intercept.

  She took a deep breath, and winced at the pain in her chest. Breathing was becoming harder for her, and walking was difficult. Her whole body ached.

  Her spirit ached too.

  “Forgive me, John,” she whispered, knowing that he had no reason to do so. What had she done except betray him time and again?

  But what were two lives compared with all the millions who would die if this did not end here and now?

  She activated her message.

  “This is Satai Delenn of the family of Mir, of the Grey Council. I am being held prisoner on this ship – the Parmenion. The Starkiller is captaining it. I must see the Grey Council
now. Do you understand? I must see the Grey Council now.”

  There. She stepped back. Some of the ships would free her from here, and she would be taken before the Grey Council. Then, she would be able to convince them of what she knew.

  This would have to end.

  “Forgive me, John,” she whispered.

  “Forgive me.”

  * * * * * * *

  And Londo had thought being gassed, bombed, threatened and mystified was bad…

  It seemed that ever since he had got involved in G’Kar’s conspiracy, people had been trying to kill him, gas him, blow him up, stab him, or shoot large holes in any spaceship he happened to be travelling in.

  Fair enough, he admitted, most of the gassings, shootings, and attempted blowings up were the result of perfectly natural Centauri politics – promotion in the Royal Court largely tending in the direction of dead men’s purple boots, with very few questions asked about the nature of their emptying – and had nothing whatsoever to do with G’Kar. But then again, if it wasn’t for that blasted Narn and his blasted Ancient Enemy, then Londo would never have involved himself in politics in the first place, and he would spend his days quite happily living a pious and religious life. (Insofar as Centauri religion tended towards the drinking, eating, gambling, womanising and being very sick school of religion – probably on the theory that if you were going to be a deeply spiritual person, you might as well enjoy it.)

  Ah, who am I kidding? Londo thought. I would have done this anyway.

  But then, blaming G’Kar was much more fun than blaming himself.

  After he had left Centauri Prime – supposedly dead – he had been helped aboard the warship Valerius, captained by his nephew Carn. Londo was not particularly happy at his nephew having chosen a life in the military, but he had been able to use his influence to get Carn posted to a ceremonial, showy type of ship, and therefore one not very likely to see much action.

  Unfortunately, they’d neglected to inform the Narns of this.